


Cartoons and Best Friends

by mrsthing



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-15
Updated: 2020-06-15
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:26:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24740761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrsthing/pseuds/mrsthing
Summary: Just a short piece. Pretty raw, I rushed it up for a friend. Crowley has snuck over the Aziraphale's bookshop for the duration of the pandemic lockdown. They decide to celebrate their 100th day of confinement by getting drunk and watching cartoons.
Kudos: 3





	Cartoons and Best Friends

“This is our 100th day of lockdown. How shall we celebrate?” Aziraphale asked.  
“Mmmm, I don’t know; we could get drunk and watch old cartoons,” Crowley replied.  
“Okay. I’ll get the wine and glasses, you summon up a cartoon. I’m not partial to anything in particular, so choose something you like, my dear.”

Aziraphale busied himself in the little pantry that was off the back room of the bookstore. He’d turned it into a kitchen of sorts. There was a winding staircase down to the basement, where he kept his wines. He picked out a good vintage--nothing ostentatious; he didn’t want to waste the really special wines on cartoons and quarantine--and grabbed two glasses from the cupboard on his way back to the back room. He corked the bottle, poured the wine, handed Crowley a glass, and sat down. 

“Well then, what are we watching?”  
“I’m not sure; it looks like this dog...thing...whatever it is, is trying to catch the...uh...I think it’s supposed to be a bird of some kind. The dog can’t run fast enough, so he devises what he thinks are clever traps, but the bird evades him every time.”  
“Hmmm...okay. Let’s see if we find it diverting. You can always change the channel if we don’t like it.”  
“I have a feeling that after 4 or 5 glasses of wine, we’ll laugh at anything,” predicted Crowley.

Five glasses of wine and an hour’s worth of Roadrunner cartoons later, they were both sprawled on the sofa. Aziraphale was leaning heavily against Crowley, his head on Crowley’s chest. Crowley had his arm around Aziraphale’s back. Aziraphale was giggling like a schoolgirl; Crowley was laughing so hard no sound came out. On the screen, Wile. E. Coyote was opening a box labeled “ACME Bomb Detonation Kit.” “Oh, this’ll be good,” sloshed Crowley. Wile E. Coyote set up the bomb, running a wire from five sticks of dynamite to a plunger-type detonator. He disguised the pile of dynamite by dumping 50 pounds of ACME Birdseed on top of it. The Roadrunner came speeding along, stopping in its tracks to investigate the birdseed. He started pecking at the pile. Wile E. pressed the plunger, but nothing happened. Roadrunner ate his way down to the dynamite, realized it was a trap, said, "Meep meep!" and sped away into the distance. Wile E. stomped over to investigate the pile of dynamite, and the bomb went off in his face. He stood there, looking defeated, all of his hair singed off. Crowley threw his head back and cackled; Aziraphale’s body folded up in the middle and he laughed out loud, banging his hand on the sofa so hard he raised a cloud of dust. “Shit,” he said, “I really oughta clean thish thing more often.” He looked at Crowley. Crowley looked at him. "Meep meep!" they chorused, then burst out laughing simultaneously, and redoubled because they’d both burst out laughing at the same time. When Crowley caught his breath, he said, “What are we even laughing at?” Aziraphale giggled. "Meep meep! Nothing! We’re laughing at nothing!” and this started the laughter afresh. 

After a few more glasses of wine, they were staring glassy-eyed at the color bars on the screen. They couldn't remember when the program ended. They felt like they’d been there forever. “Beautiful colors, don’t you think, Crowley?”  
“Yeah, I really like that pink one.”  
“Pink?”  
“Well, whatever you call it. Between the red and the uh...uh…”  
“Chartreuse?”  
“Green.”  
“Well, chartreuse is a shade of green.”  
“Then what’s that color next to it?”  
“The cyan, you mean?”  
“What’s cyan?”  
“It’s the shade of blue next to the chartreuse.”  
“No, the one I was calling pink before. What do you call it?”  
“Magenta.”  
“Magenta?” Crowley asked incredulously. “There’s a color called ‘magenta’?”  
“Have some more wine, Crowley.”  
Aziraphale tried to pour some wine, and missed the glass by a wide margin. “Shorry,” he said, “I was aiming for the wrong glass…”  
“Mine is the one in the middle,” Crowley said helpfully. Aziraphale poured and hit the target perfectly.  
“A toast!” Aziraphale proposed.  
“To lockdowns, and good wine, and good friends!” replied Crowley.  
“The very best of friends,” agreed Aziraphale.

FIN


End file.
